Sunday Update: Moving Onward or Upward

"What's up with you lately?"

An innocent but loaded question as of late.

What am I doing right now? Watching the Vancouver-San Jose game.

What am I doing this week? Painting some walls. For the first time. Yep, you got it, this girl is getting her newly painted nails a little bit dirty. Well, hopefully not that dirty - white isn't my colour (and I don't think polish remover does much with paint).

What am I doing this month? Moving. A month ago, the Newf lost his job. A week later The Parentals advised they were looking to rent out their basement apartment. We made the executive decision to jump on the opportunity. Between our general dislike for the city of Toronto, and the ease of my transferring to a school in London it seemed like an obvious choice.

This move has been a humbling process, and I don't quite know how I feel about it yet. To secure my mind in the positive, I've decided to make a list of my pros and cons:

First, the pros:

1.) We will likely save a pretty penny on rent. Once the Parentals advise of the rental fee, I can confirm this, but it almost guaranteed the rent will be less than the cost of our studio apartment in the Toronto Beaches.

2.) I get to paint. Something about playing with colour gets me a little hot and bothered.

3.) Our place is a separate apartment, so theoretically the loss of privacy will be minimal.

4.) My younger brother, Jake, lives upstairs. At five years my junior he makes me feel young again.

5.) We really, really like the city of London. The tiny village I grew up in is a mere thirty minutes away, so I know what I'm getting myself into.

6.) It has a classy address. Sorry kids, I can't post it here, but I can assure you that I'm not living on a street that makes you do a double take. Nope, no Piccadilly Street for me; and yes, that superficial fact matters to me.

7.) I can (theoretically) transfer with ease to a photography program here in London. Once I get in, I will have 24/7 access to a full photography studio.

8.) My new apartment is complete with a wet bar. It has a beautiful polished wood bar that makes my liver tingle with excitement (my liver has always erred on the side of danger).

With this extensive list, let's look at the cons:

1.) We have to move. All of that cleaning, packing and unpacking is so much work. Once you include the address changes to that equation my eye starts to twitch.

2.) While it is a separate apartment with tons of potential, it is in the Parentals' basement. At twenty six (almost twenty seven) it is a humbling process. Not to mention a younger sister who is looking for apartments double my rent, and a little green monster is making a certain appearance.

3.) Despite the separate space, I am sharing the overall home with family. My family is cool, but they are still my family. Point made.

4.) My dog has suddenly turned into our dog. It isn't a matter that people are trying to lay claim to my furry friend, but more a fact that my family of dog lovers all have a different way of doing things. In my house, my dog is not allowed to sleep on the bed or sit on the couch. He is not fed from the table, even if he is really working the "I'm-sad-and-hungy" look. I keep tight restraints on his amount and type of exercise. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees and my carefully laid consistency has gone out the window. But, when your dog tops the scale at 140 pounds, can easily set his head on the table and has heartbreakingly bad elbow dysplasia we can talk. I'm going to have to let go a little bit, and I hate that.

5.) With its close proximity to my hometown, it is almost guaranteed that I will run into someone I know. Odds are, it will be a day I have not showered and am covered in paint.

6.) I have never painted. This could be a disaster.

7.) With my newfound geographical closeness to my immediate family I must begin to assert myself a little bit more. With anyone else a quick passive aggressive response would do, but I'm stuck with these people for life. The process is sure to ruffle some feathers, on both sides of the fence.

8.) It will be much more difficult to feign ignorance to all the nasty little tidbits of information I have on my siblings. Being the oldest of three, I tend to hear about everything the siblings do not have the guts to voice to the Parentals. Sometimes it is very rewarding. Right now it frustrating. Something about being expected to provide sympathy for a sibling who has provided the unabridged story six months ago is a little bit trying. I need to learn to walk away. I hate that too.

At first glance it may seem that this list is pretty even keeled. I may be crying over spilt milk. But, that is all resolved with the last listed pro. My new place has a wet bar. I have a pile of liquor and a hot husband. I have a brother who encourages intoxication.

Things will work themselves out. I can't say the same for the painting.

What are you working through right now?

Humbly at home,

L

Happy Birthday Hairy!

It's the Beast's birthday!

Today, he turns a mighty wise two years old!

That may not sound like much, but when your life expectancy is ten to twelve years, you learn to appreciate the small milestones too.

This poor pooch has some nasty elbow problems, making it likely he won't even make it to ten. That is all sad talk for the future. Today it is time to celebrate!

Many dog owners go all out and bake a cake. I am not one of them. The beast isn't even permitted to hit my sheets.

I'm not a complete Cruella, he does have a lovely plaid, flannel and orthopaedic bed to put his noggin on at the end of the day.

But, back to the Beast. He may not have gotten a cake, but we did share a bad ass walk - I even let him smell everything he wanted to. He's got a big 'ol bone and a can of wet food waiting.

So, to my Beast, my hairy Newfoundland buddy who is always at my feet, happy birthday.

You truly are man's best friend.

Just in case you are curious as to how the Beast belonging to Linnie spends his big day:

He spends it just like any other day. My kind of guy.

How do you like to spend your birthday?

Birthday'ing with the Beast,

L

It's Freaking Friday: And This is a (Creative) School Thing

Good afternoon dudes and dudettes!

This is actually a quick post for a school project, but, feel free to follow along.

If you are a massive fan of "Where's Waldo" this may be your cup of tea. Or it might not, we will find out.

That being said, today I have to submit an example of "The Databased Image". There have been some pretty neat examples floating around, check out the work of
Chris Jordan for some really freaky examples.

Let's just say I'm taking a different approach. I don't have any dead dodos lying around so I thought I'd provide a little example of my online database. Think of it as a scavenger hunt without a prize.

THE GOAL: You want to find this picture:

It is located *somewhere* in the bowels of this blog.

THE HINT: Because (I assume) my classmates are not frequent fliers here at Linnie gets Laced I assume you don't know the handles of the blogging world, or my blogging world, for that matter.

The boy in the picture is known as "The Newf". Yes, he's my Newfoundland lovah, and yes, he makes a mean plate of fish and chips.

The dog in my picture is known in these parts as "The Beast", mostly because, well, he is a giant beast.

You can locate the picture using a couple of different methods. Check out the post information bar below, and the sidebar for some locating love.

It's an IQ test, and the timer starts NOW! Good luck!

Looking for a likeness,

L

The Apple of my Storm

Darling readers,

Tonight I sit and wait. Tonight, the snow is coming.

For days the weatherman has promised the snowstorm of the year - high winds, lots of snow and even "thunder snow" (if you imagined snow and thunder, you'd be right). Services and schools have been cancelled in advance, and the sheep of the city have been bustling about collecting supplies and fretting about the frost.

Friends, I am not concerned. It is just a little bit of snow - this is what we Canadians are built for.

I am old enough to remember the Ice Storm of '98. I am old enough to remember when losing power was a problem and we had a kitchen full of neighbours huddling around our gas stove. Finally, I am old enough to remember my father filling up every pot and container we had with water, lest we really get snowed in.

Those were the best snow storms.

Tomorrow, instead of cursing the commute, think of those who call the street home. Think of those who are really braving the cold. Consider what we can do to help.

But tonight, when you are happy at home, enjoy the moment.

I know that with a Newfoundland man to my left, a Newfoundland dog to my right, and the Environment Canada radar onscreen, I'll be just fine.

My lights are off, but we are all home. We are the freaks who fret about a lack of snow.

Hoping for some havoc,

L

Dad, Your Boat is Showing

Are you freezing yet friends?

As you may recall, the Parentals flew in for the holidays. For those of you who are not aware, the lucky buggers spend their time floating around the Caribbean on their sailboat.

I guess that is their reward for raising three children.

Never one to disappoint, Mother Nature was there to welcome them with a wallop of snow.

A full frontal shot of the house.

That black bit is the dog - my full grown Newfoundland, aka The Beast. He digs snow.

The darling Mini Cooper. We left it clean and cozy at midnight.

Never to disappoint the neighbourhood, my father ventured out in the subzero weather to snap these pictures. While he was outside he chatted with a couple across the street. The catch? He was wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

Thank goodness the wind wasn't blowing and the garage was full of liquor.

I missed you Dad.

Check out his blog for the full sized shots, sailing stories and anything else suspiciously screwy.

Spawn of the strange,

L

Wordless Wednesday: My Newfs, With Words

I have some quick photos to share. A rare glimpse into the life that is mine.

The Beast and the Newf, aloof and without bribes.

The Beast and the Newf, much happier, after being bribed with fish.

Never underestimate the power of a Newf's stomach.

Have a good one.

It's a wonderful Wednesday,

L

Breaking News (and the Rules), One Ball of Yarn at a Time

Oh goodness, it would only happen to me.

After spending the last couple of days surrounded in illness I woke up feeling marginally better. Seeing as it is just gorgeous outside, I thought a walk downtown was in order.

Fresh air always does a body good.

The Beast was game so I clipped him to his leash and off we went. After stopping at the yarn store and the library we headed home.

It then became apparent the streets were oddly quiet. On a hunch, I checked the news.

Apparently a giant chemical cloud has escaped and Toronto residents are being "ordered" to stay indoors. I suppose I should have checked the news before I left, I just didn't expect a big ball of fury to be unleashed on the city.

I'm pretty far from the blanket of acid leaking from 10 Chemical Court, so maybe I'll head back to the yarn store later tonight.

I'm just that dangerous. Nobody "orders" me to do anything. Booyah.

With burning eyes,

L

I Need Some ID: Show Me Your Dog

This evening I set out on my nightly walk with the Beast. A daily ritual, I try to find a different purpose for our trot around town.

Tonight, I felt lucky. I felt really lucky. The Beast agreed, so we set off to find some lottery tickets. A constant number player, I often purchase tickets. I am convinced I will win. Most people sing with the shampoo bottle in the shower; I practice calling the lottery office. If I was an addict, gambling would be it - this is to say I always feel lucky.

We lumbered to the convenience store, the cool air crisp on our faces and the Beast blowing through piles of leaves. We had a destination, we needed to see the Milk Man.

The first thing the Newf and I did when we moved to Toronto was to find a convenience store. Being small-town, I avoid chains like the plague, always looking for a friendly independent establishment. A buddy-buddy business is always best; it provides friendly chit chat and service is always better when you are a consistent, loyal customer.

It didn't take us long to find our store of choice. One walk, on a warm spring day, found us our man. There, sitting in a lawn chair, stretched out in the sun, and smoking a cigar was the owner of Sun Milk Convenience. The man, later to be dubbed the Milk Man, looked up from his cigar and went nuts. "Ohhhhhhhhh! What a big puppy! Oh, you a big boy, you a big boy!" he excitedly exclaimed as he outright kissed the dog.

This guy was weird; we were sold.

Every warm day thereafter you could find the Milk Man, sunning himself next to his umbrella, cigar in hand. The umbrella doesn't offer much protection from the sun, the Milk Man always sits next to the contraption. Instead, this pole offers the perfect place to tie up your pooch. Somedays there will be a bunch of dogs, in differing shapes and sizes, all tied to the same pole. Lord help us when they all decide to run.

Every day we pass this little store we have a quick chat and the Beast gets a little French love.

So, it was a given that I would stop here for our lottery binge. Being late October it was chilly I had an oversized sweatshirt, warm vest (plaid of course) and reindeer toque plunked on top of my wet hair. I was dressed appropriately for poop scooping. The Beast was left, tied up to the umbrella pole, and I waited for my chance at the counter.

When I got up to the counter my cheery conversation and ticket request was shot down. "You have ID?" the Milk Man said, calmly but firmly.

"Oh, no, I am sorry, I don't!"

"Oh, no ticket then;" the Milk Man responded, face flat and hands motioning to reiterate that he was closed for business to minors.

"Oh dear, I come by all the time," I replied, hoping to avoid the walk back home (I really felt lucky). I wracked my brain for something recognizable, "I have the big black dog!"

The Milk Man did not look impressed. He held his ground.

The line was growing in the small store, so I shot a smile his way and went out to get the Beast. Now, our dog is a good one; he doesn't eat the Jos Louis on the bottom rack nor does he jump on people. He is friendly, but he is BIG. When you get him into a small store, filled with people, he just doesn't belong. Normally I wouldn't bring the Beast in a store, especially one that had food, but this was an emergency.

The Milk Man took one look and lit up, "Oh! Oh, oh, OH!" He knew who we were, and he knew he'd seen my ID before.

The Beast was escorted back outside and I took my place at the back of the line. When I reached the counter the Milk Man put his hand on my shoulder, head down. "How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm twenty-six," I said hesitantly, wondering if this was a trick question.

The Milk Man burst out laughing. Face red and cheeks full he yelled (loud enough he made the woman behind me jump), "Oh! You look SO YOUNG!"

I bought my lottery tickets. I love the Milk Man.

Do you have any commercial loyalties? Any favourite stores, brand name or family run?

Enjoying my youth,

L

Dead, But HOW Dead?

I saw a dead guy the other day. I've been thinking about him (or her, let's be fair) ever since.

I was out walking the Beast when he decided to have the mother of all shits; it was a double bagger. As I looked up, I caught sight of a shiny black Suburban pull into the funeral home across the road.

Two people got out and opened the back doors. Assuming they were dropping the casket off I paused for a second; it seemed like the right thing to do.

What followed was not a casket but a bona fed body. It was on a stretcher in a black body bag, complete with feet poking up like circus tents. The body seemed to be a long one (aka, he took up the full stretcher) so I'm assuming this was a man. Either way, it was a thin body.

For those of you who think I'm completely nuts, let me justify my fascination with advising you that my university studies revolved around dead bodies. Skeletons, forensics and human behaviour were my subjects of choice (maybe a little English was thrown in).

It was such an odd sight, this body fresh from the hospital. I certainly wasn't expecting anything other than a pine box (possibly mahogany, considering the neighbourhood). I've seen lots of bodies, fresh and foul, during my own employment at a funeral home. Thing is, I always knew the story behind them.

I don't know this body's story. Where did they come from? Why did they die?

Tonight I was walking the pooch again and saw a crowd milling around the same funeral home - likely the family and friends of the deceased.

I didn't stick around but I still wonder, what is the story?

Debating the dead,

L

Back in Black, For Now

Good evening my electronic locals!

Did you miss me?

Well, regardless of your love (or lack thereof) I am back, for now. In my absence a few things happened. Let's recap:

1.) Thanksgiving: can you say YUM? While my turkey day was turkey-free (I blame the Parentals who were too busy living a life of adventure to cook me a turkey) it was fabulous. I ordered pizza.

2.) Grannie got the staples from her foot removed and I was there for the whole thing. I even have pictures! If you missed it, you can read all about her broken bone here. After being told she was not to shower or walk on it, the first thing she did was take a shower. I can hardly blame her I suppose, but, Grannie, please leave the sledgehammer at home.

3.) The Beast got some bad news. Being a large dog he is prone to dysplasia and it seems the D has effected the L; his elbow that is. The poor guy is limping around and he is still growing! He is still young and so we are hopeful he may grow out of it if we keep him quiet and consistently exercise the joint. It could go horribly wrong and we could end up putting him down early on but I just don't think so. The Beast is a dog set in his ways and right now, his ways include living. Dude is on a diet to keep him lean and we enjoy short walks. No more jaunts at the beach or slices of 'za on Friday nights. Well, maybe half a slice is okay - he's a big boy and he deserves to have a little fun.

4.) I won a MASSIVE giveaway. My darling friend has a wonderful crafty blog and Etsy store. Recently she hosted a giveaway and I won the first prize of a $75 gift certificate! Since I love her stuff, it won't last long. Word on the street has it she is making some new products - I can't wait! I'll post pictures of my purchases as I get them!

5.) I finished my mysterious project I had asked for your assistance a couple of weeks ago and I finally put your words to use! A big THANK YOU for all the responses! Look for my work later in the week!

6.) I have started the colourful journey of attempting to add more fruits and veggies to my diet. There is a wonderful foodie blogger who has offered to provide me tips on healthy eating. The caveat, I have to do one tip before I get another. How is that for punishment??!? This week I have to drink (or eat?) a smoothie. Problem is, it has a banana in it. I don't do banana's folks. I promise to let you know how the fruity feast goes.

All in all, it has been a busy week!

What have you been up to these past few weeks? Any particular events or accomplishments to speak of?

Working with the wicked,

L

Piglets and Tiaras

Friends,

I have some fabulous news, I get the Beast back tomorrow!  He was staying at my brother and sister's while we were in Newfoundland and this weekend we get him back!

He is 120 pounds (and growing) of black fur and he tends to follow me around everywhere I go.  The Beast is fabulous company (in his mind I am always right) and I have missed him.

These last few days I have settled for the company of Napoleon, the Newf's pet guinea pig.  Normally I would give him a false name, as I do with everyone in my blog but this pig can take you down.  He's gruff, tough and a distant descendant of the The Killer Rabbit, whose fluffiness belies its murderous intent.  You may remember the infamous rabbit from the humorous flick, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  If you have not already watched this classic you must, I highly recommend it.

But I digress.  The Newf rescued the runt because he was suffering at the hand of all the other pigs.  They were beating him up.  His first day home the little guy was covered in scars, scabs and skinny as anything.

In true Napoleon style, this pig has exploded and taken over every morsel of food he possibly could.  Napoleon has also grown a fondness for the Newf which the boy could not be prouder of.  

Notice the double chin.

He gets rather feisty and despises having his nails clipped.  Having a number of pounds on the little guy I do have to force it on him.  The Newf usually leaves the room as he cannot bear to see someone force unpleasantness on his piggy friend (despite the fact his nails could pass as misshapen claws).  I assure you, the deed was done directly after this picture.

Napoleon loves his luxuries.  Grapes and apples are his favourite.  He's drunk on berries, if you will.

Eating, eating and more eating.

As you can see, the tiny pig the Newf originally brought home is no longer.  We are left with a loud, proud squeaking machine.  He is a rotund little fella and despite his size he makes his presence known (especially when the refrigerator is opened).

RANDOM FARM FACT: Guinea pigs are often used to keep barn rats at bay.  Their squeak is very similar to that of a big, Babe-like pig.  Rats are terrified of big pigs because big pigs have a tendency to stamp rats out.  Contrary to popular belief (and multiple children's movies) pigs have a nasty temper when it comes to things like blood and rats.  

So, to anyone who is feeling down in the dumps: if Napoleon can do it, you can too.

Have a great weekend!

Pig loving and pretty,

L 

Picture Time: Sometimes, it's a dog eat dog world.

Let's be real, there are those fluff posts, and this is one of them. Sometimes, everyone needs a little fluff.

"Yo hot stuff.  What's shakin?

I hope it's you because I'm not moving."

That is about the speed of things over here in Linnie Land.  I blame the heat.  It is unbearably hot over here and I am running out of cold things to do.

Let us just say, I am not built for this weather.  I like the ground frozen, sort of like The Newf's exterior.


Statically yours,

L